For someone I barely knew

At times when my mind is free to roam and left to its own devices, weird things pop in there.
Like when I'm mindlessly droning through the day, doing the same thing over and over again, I might think about that poem I wrote to Jeehosefat* back in the 11th grade and I wonder why I ever loved him because he turned out fat, bald and a manager at Wal-Mart.
Or sometimes I think about something that has a little more meaning.
Like yesterday evening while I was mindlessly mowing my yard, someone popped into my head and I have not been able to shake the thought of him since.

Patrick Halloran.

I only met him once, last year after listening to his band Ceann play.  But it was enough to make an impression.

Since I didn't really know Patrick, I can only tell you what MY impression of him was.

His smile literally ran from ear to ear.  And he had a smile for everyone he met.  He made me feel like we had known each other for years, even though I might have said 10 words to him.  I get the feeling he made everyone feel that way. 

So is it weird to miss someone I never really knew?

I'm fairly certain that had I had the fortune to sit and drink with him again, I would have been met with the same smile.  Perhaps I would have had the chance to learn more about him.  And I would have liked him even more for it.

I don't think it's weird to miss what might have been.

For whatever reason Pat has been on my mind, I'll take it.
If I had the chance to speak to him, I'd thank him for invading my thoughts.  It has, after all made me smile.

For those who have never met Pat, or heard his band Ceann play...I share this.



Awesomeness!


*Note:  Since I did end up dating this loser, I have changed his name to protect the innocent.  Even though he treated me like shit and deserves to have all of his nose hairs pulled out one by one, I will remain the bigger person here.  Oh and his initials are Rob Latshaw.
And for pete's sake, don't send me hate mail about fat, balding Wal-Mart managers.  I have no issues with fat people, or bald people.  People who work at Wal-mart,  however need to have lobotomies.

Frederick

I did my dishes.  I cleaned my house (the important rooms anyway).  I did some laundry.
That has left me completely exhausted so I'll just leave you with this.



You are welcome.

The flip side

So.
A lot has happened today and it's only half over.
I went to a writing retreat in Glen Rock.

First I must say that Glen Rock is one of the most beautiful places in York County.  If you've never been through it, do yourself a favor and take a drive.
Gorgeous!

The retreat was hosted by Shawn Ledington Fink.
And what a beautiful day it was to get re-acquainted with my creative words.
We talked, laughed, shared, inspired and yes...we even wrote.

What is really great is that I came to a few realizations today, and neither of them had anything to do with writing.  How amazing is that?

1. I am sick of myself. 
I've been alone for three years (and if you count the crappy 'end of days' with my ex it's been much longer than that).  That is too much time for someone to be alone.  I need a distraction from me. 

2. I'm hormonal.
That's not really a factual statement being as how I haven't really been diagnosed with any real problem.  But it doesn't take a genius to figure it out.  I've been keeping track of my moods for a few weeks, so I'm still not 100% sure what is going on.
But I got my period this morning.  And suddenly I feel better, mentally.
Hmmmmm.
There is a bit more to it than that, but that is the gist.
It doesn't make me happy...but some things are at least starting to make sense.

I'm glad I'm feeling better today.
Feeling blue is not really fun. 
And if I'm this sick of my own self, I can only imagine what my friends are thinking.

Well after a long day of looking inward there is no better way of treating yourself than a bag of Cooler Ranch Doritos, a 5th Avenue, Rutter's Tea...then a nap.

Here's hoping the second half of my day lives up to at least 1/2 the awesomeness contained in the first half.

For me

This blog is for me.
Writing things down helps me.
I've always struggled with how much to share on this blog.
After all...how many of you actually want to know about the things that hide in the deepest corners of my mind and heart.
It's not always pretty.

I had a good day today.
Slow day at work.
Shared some laughs with some of my co-workers.
I even looked forward to going home and getting some things done tonight.

I got home and ate dinner.
And I sat.
First to watch a bit of tv while I relaxed a bit.

And without warning it hit me.
A wave of dread, loneliness, sorrow, misery.
It's all encompassing.
I can't breathe.
Before I can say boo, the tears come.
I can't stop them.
I cry like this for minutes and then minutes turns into hours.

I get up to walk around a bit; try to shake it off.
But it follows me.

It's been like this for almost four hours tonight.
My eyes hurt.
My hands shake.
My throat hurts from holding back screams.

I try to picture my friends in my head.
I picture good times we've had together.
But as my mind replays the memory, it shifts.
I'm watching from a distance, and they are laughing and sharing great moments without me.

This is my struggle.
My disconnection to the world.
It's something I've always felt.
My first memory as a child is of me sitting in my play pen.
I had just woken from a nap, but my sister still slept beside me.
My mom asked me to be quiet and I told her I was hungry.
So she made me my favorite; peanut butter and jelly.

I can still see her face as she brought the plate into me.
And I felt lost.
At three, I felt lost.

I remember looking at my sister, sleeping beside me.
She looked so peaceful dreaming about who knows what.
And I felt like an alien sitting next to her.

I didn't belong there.
I have never felt like I belonged anywhere.

I don't write this because I want people to pity me.
I write this because I need to.
If I own the dread, the misery, and the loneliness, then perhaps it won't be able to own me anymore.
That kind of freedom sounds nice.

In which I feel the need to splain m'self.

It is no secret that I can be moody.  I have told people time and time again that I go through slumps, down periods, blue moods, whatever the fuck you wanna call them.

I talk about them briefly here.

I am currently in the slump part of my mood cycle.  (In case you haven't noticed)
So I'm feeling all forlorn and mopey and woe-is-me.

This mood swing thing...it's apart of me.
At least I'm able to sort of recognize when it's happening, even if I can't stop the whining, paranoia, or crabbiness.

So hang in there with me, okay?
I promise it will get better.

What is wrong with this picture?

Jesus Fuck this is hard.

Let me start over.
I know, KNOW, that I am a beautiful woman in more ways than one.
I'm kind, caring, funny, compassionate, loving and downright sexy.
People see those things in me; I just know it.

So why am I still alone?

Seems I make one hell of a friend, but I'm not girlfriend material. 
At least that is the way it seems to me.

Don't get it twisted.
I have wonderful friends.  Knowing they have my back makes me feel very grateful, and less lonely.
But every night I go home alone.
I could spend the greatest night with my homies, and still, I go home alone.

One of my co-workers asked me a question a few months ago.
"What if you never find another companion, will you be content?"

No.
I won't.

I'm not saying I want to get married again (shudder).  But yes, I want to have a partner in life.
I want someone I can share secrets with.
Someone who I can love and take care of, and let them take care of me.
And quite frankly, someone to rip clothes off of.

So why can't I find someone who wants those same things, with me?

And please don't tell me "It will happen when you least expect it", or "When you aren't looking, you'll find someone."
These are the types of things people say when they can't think of anything else to say.
Most of you are already married or paired off with your soul-mate* and you have absolutely no idea what it is like to be in my shoes.
If you must know...nobody wants to hear that shit. 
I swear, the next time someone says that to me I might just punch them square in the genitals.

Honestly, it all sucks.  And the more I see the people around me who are happy, the more I want to scream.  I want to be happy for them, but it's getting harder and harder to find that strength.
And I am not the type of person who relies on someone else to make me happy.

I am not afraid of being alone.
But I am afraid of being alone forever.


*I don't really believe in soul-mates.  I think there is real, solid love.  And that if you have that love with someone, you work your ass off to make sure your partnership stays alive.  It's ugly and messy, but so worth it.

Just for me.

How do I put this delicately?
I need more time with adults.
Yes.  I think that covers it.

Please don't misunderstand me.  I love my son with a fierceness that cannot be described. 
But if I have to spend the next 10 years living my life for him alone, I am going to go mad.
Balls to the wall mad!

I have never been that type of mother.  You know the kind I'm talking about.
EVERYTHING they do is for their kids.
They leave no room for their own identity.
I find that sad.
You need something for yourself. 
You need to show your children that it's okay that mommy has her own identity.
They need to know you are a real person.

But when the ex and I split the second time around, it seemed that all of my so-called friends split at the same time.  I was forced to go through a major life change alone, no support.
(And for my family who read this...DO NOT SEND ME HATE MAIL!!!  I'M TALKING ABOUT SOMETHING SPECIFIC SO DON'T MAKE THIS ABOUT YOU.)
It's taken me almost three years but I've been able to start building some friendships again.
And it's nice.
Very nice.

But the circle is small.
Life is hectic.
And I don't get to see them as often as I'd like.

So that leaves a lot of down time between adult outings.
A lot of time that is filled with Pokemon, DS-athons, Wizards of Waverly Place and tantrums.

I'm fairly certain that in large doses, Disney can actually kill.
I think I read it in an article somewhere.  And we all know the Internet doesn't lie.

But since I can't always change others' plans...I need some suggestions.
What I can do while Ryan is having 'his' time?
Or, what do you do that is all your own?

I have plenty of Blistex

It's cool outside.  Maybe 60 degrees.
The wind is blowing through my window.
It's just enough to give me a chill.
Perfect.

It's also the perfect night for snuggling with a sexy beast and kissing until my lips are numb. 
I miss that.

It will look pretty when it's done.

I'm so glad I'm not one of those girly-girls who can't take care of shit.
I mean, there are some things I don't know how to do.
But I can take care of my home.
I can get schweaty mowing the lawn, staining the deck (okay I haven't actually done this one but how friggin hard can it be?), painting my walls, even doing some basic mechanical shit.
But there is one thing I can't do.
I can't hang shit.
Pictures I have mastered.
But if said 'shit' involves using those damn plastic screw mounts, forget it.
I've tried.
I've practiced, spackled, moved to another section of the wall and tried again, but I just cannot get it right!
It's frustrating as shit.

So I have all the tools I need to re-do my closet.  Including some wonderful Closet Maid shelves.  But I don't think I can hang them right.
So what is a girl to do?

Beg.

Who wants to help me when the time comes?
Cute boys please apply.  My closet is small and just enough room for me to rub up against you.  (That would be your payment by the way)

Ridalin for adults

I think I have life ADHD.
Wait...did I say that once before?
I did?
Ugh.
Moving on...

I know I have life ADHD.
There are just too many shiny things out there that attract my attention.  I can't help myself.

I recently discovered a new-found passion for writing.  Sometimes the words just literally pour out of me without any regard for politeness, grammar, or concern.  But the last time I actually worked on anything was LAST JULY!!!  Can you believe that shit?
One minute the characters are screaming at me to write they shit down, and the next I'm on to something else shiny.

I'm not sure what it was that distracted me, but it did none-the-less.

And now I'm thinking of picking up my guitar again.  I love the idea of rocking out like KT Tunstall, Ani DiFranco or Beth Hart.  But I am so intimidated by the actual practicing so I tend to get discouraged quickly.
Now I know all about practicing.  I played violin since the age of 8.  I used to practice at least 1/2 hour a day, sometimes more.  I took private lessons for a summer (that was all we could afford...BOO!), and even stuck it out in high school when my orchestra director was a total bitch.  All because I loved it.
I'm not great at it, and I haven't picked it up in years.  But I know that instrument like the back of my hand.  Each string has been re-strung with my own two hands at least several times.  I know the two pegs that slip.  I know each sprinkling of rosin dust. And even that little teeny nubbin that lies on the scroll.
I just don't know if I can have that same relationship with a guitar.  But part of me would really like to stick with it, because I know I could rock that shit.

And another part of me really wants to try the bass.  It's somewhat similar to the violin in that it's only four strings.  There aren't chords being played, but individual notes that melt your heart like butter, when played right. 
Plus I would look fucking badass with a long-neck strapped around my neck.
Fuck yeah.

Then there is the jewelry making, scrap booking, decorating, art-making, and general creative debauchery that takes up the rest of my time.
Seriously people...I need to get this shit together!

Maybe I can become one of those artists who plays a shit ton of instruments, sings like a mutha while wearing her own jewelry and then sell my art on the side.
I can make a scrap book of the entire experience!

Shit...I need a better camera so I can take prettier pictures.

In which I take a moment to be serious

Did you ever have one of those moments that are so spectacular you wish you could bottle it up so you could take it with you?

Last night I had that happen twice.
How lucky am I?

To the amazing people I spent time with on Friday night (you know who you are)...You all, in one way or another, make me a better person.
Thank you.

Sometimes I say shit

Webster's defines Lady as the following:
Lady
(Ley-dee)
a woman who is refined, polite, and well-spoken: She may be poor and have little education, but she's a real lady.

There are many times in my life where being a 'lady' is necessary.  Behaving this way is not hard for me, nor does it feel like a stretch.  However, there are times in my life when it feels stifling.
I have thoughts that are disgusting, dirty, vulgar and downright horrific.
These thoughts need to be expressed.

I don't mean to offend anyone with my disturbing mind, however I will make no apologies for who I am.

Take it or leave it

I don't bend to please people.
I make no apologies.
I love fiercly.
I am ferociously protective.
I have no regrets.

It's all about Perceptions

I had a discussion with a friend about weight.  She needs to lose some...doctor's orders!
I need to lose some...just because.
We both tossed things back and forth until she said a number.
I gasped.
I said a number, she gasped.
She saw me in a way that I never saw myself, and vice versa.
So it got me thinking.
How do people really see me?
And is what they see so different from what I see?

Sometimes I can look in the mirror and feel totally awesome about the way I look.  That confidence carries over into my mood.  And if I'm in a great mood, my personality is putting it's best foot forward.
So I tend to think that people view me as a nice, fun, pretty woman.

And then I see a picture of myself.

Good feelings gone.
When I'm not feeling good about myself, do people notice that?
Does it change their perception of me?

It also makes me wonder, do my friends know how I see them? 
For me it's all about personality.  If you are a good person, I see you as attractive.
But what do they see in themselves?  Is it what I see too?
And if not, would anything I say ever change their minds?

I hope so, because their words have changed mine.

Edgy and dull

I trimmed a tree tonight. 
I asked Ryan if he wanted to hang outside with me.
His answer was no, because it wasn't cool enough.

Turns out I heard him wrong. 
He said I wasn't cool enough.


haha kid. 
haha.

While I was getting him ready for bed I was teasing him about what he said.
He joked right back with me and said that "Daddy was much cooler".

PA-SHA!

So I asked him how in the world would Daddy be cooler than me.
His response?

"Because Daddy takes me places like Florida and Virginia Beach."

Joke over.
Because I don't have the money for trips like that. 
And even though I know my son doesn't have a clue how his words affected me, I am hurt.
I constantly worry that I'm not doing enough for him.
I worry that he's missing out on something because I'm alone.
And even though he has a father who is highly involved in his life, I worry that he will be negatively affected by the fact that he lives two separate lives that occasionally meet.
I feel guilty for the things I think I should do, but can't.
And to have him say those words out loud hurts more than I can express.